Time Crisis: Ultimatum
by Elemental-Zer0
Summary: The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any intel, so they send in the best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgments... and they've taken the world hostage to get them...
1. Preview

**Preview**

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_**'Elemental-Zer0 Productions'**_

_**Presents…**_

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Thunder rumbled angrily outside. A howling wind raced through the old wooden house while the rain hammered at the windows as though in protest of what was about to happen.

A young woman sat morosely in the middle of the draughty room; wrists chained to a ring-pull on the floor.

"He's angry…" The voice didn't scare her; she'd been expecting this visitor.

"I know."

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_**A Mimi-Corp Story**_

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"More so than he's ever been…" The visitor continued, crossing her arms and leaning on her right hip.

"I know."

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_**In Association with the Fan Fiction. Net-work**_

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The Visitor - a young girl - clenched her fists in her arms, before looking away from the woman. Remorse for what was to be said already threatening her dry eyes.

"He's going to kill you…" She didn't want it to be true, but it was. Her father was the intolerable type and would not tolerate such betrayal.

The young woman bowed her head lower, letting more tears escape her soft heart.

"I know…"

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_The world is in mortal danger yet again…_

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"Good morning this is the news at eight. We have just heard confirmation from the local authorities that a group of terrorist mercenaries have escaped imprisonment late last night just on the outskirts of Arizona. Police have warned all local residents and workers to stay alert and if anything looks suspicious to report it immediately to the police.

"The Terrorists are reported to be the head figures of several national terrorist groups known as; Gregory Barrows, Giorgio Zott and Derrick Lynch. It is unconfirmed as to what these three men were charged with but we have been assured they are very dangerous men. Please stay alert and report them immediately if you spot them. The helpline number for this case is…"

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_The VSSE can't seem to get any Intel from the new threat at all… so they decide to send in their best men…_

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"The world is in peril yet again boys and we need you to do what you do best." The Head of the Vital Situation, Swift Elimination (VSSE) announced from behind his desk.

Seven young men stood or sat before him in varying ways, all mimicking each other's look of concentration and curiosity.

"So what's the sit., boss?" Agent Alan Dunaware asked as he adjusted himself in his seat. His partner, Agent Wesley Lambert, glanced at him from his vantage point across the room but remained silent.

"Gregory Barrows, Giorgio Zott and Derrick Lynch managed to escape from a high security transportation vehicle last night with help from an unknown organisation. They were on their way to maximum security prison in Arizona but the convoy was ambushed just outside the state." The Head explained, watching as several faces fell and others remained as blank as ever.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Agent Giorgio Bruno asked; a slight Italian slur to his otherwise perfect pronunciation. Agent Evan Bernard, his yearling partner, shifted in his seat before him restlessly.

"I'm afraid so…" The Head confirmed, "The Hamlin Battalion, The Zagorias Federation and The URDA group are back in business and we have reason to believe this new organisation is hiring them out… which means they're all working together…"

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_But the bad guys have a new agenda…_

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"Sir, we just found out the terrorist's motive, I'm sending you the details now…" The Head paled visibly as he read the transmitted files.

"Oh dear god…" His blood turned to ice. "They're after my boys!"

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_And they've taken the world as their hostage…_

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"People of Earth, I do NOT come in peace and you are now all my hostages… I have right now, one hundred nuclear warheads strategically placed around the world; in shopping malls, in airports, in train stations, in harbours and even in a few homes. No one will escape because there is no where to escape to!"

The pandemonium was suddenly quiet. The office was so still…

"Where are they broadcasting from?" The Head asked, leaning down to view the monitor of a hapless secretary. A nameless voice answered him;

"I can't get a lock, they're triangulating the signal." The Head turned but couldn't locate the speaker. Instead he ignored it and barked out another question;

"Can we decrypt?" But he was stopped by the terrorists speaking again.

"If I see any suspicious movement or any retaliation from you lot, I'll start setting these warheads off one by one…"

The Head swore but stopped as three familiar faces were dragged onto the screen. The Terrorist continued;

"And if the highly acclaimed V, S, S, E decides to send any more of these in…" He shook the closest one to him to indicate what he was talking about. "You can expect this in return."

The terrorist didn't even take time to aim…

"I hope we've got your attention now. You cannot run. You can try to hide but that won't get you very far…" The man paused before addressing the planet again. "There are people amongst you lovely viewers who I want to meet personally. Perhaps shake their hands and get an autograph; but they won't come willingly." He paused again to spit at an Agent as he walked past him. "That's why, for every day that goes by without them turning up on my doorstep, one of those warheads is going to explode starting with tonight at midnight." He grinned manically, "So if you want to live… you've gotta help me find 'em and bring 'em to me...

…Dead or alive…"

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Elemental-Zer0 gives to you;

~ * **Time Crisis; Ultimatum** * ~

(Coming soon to a Fan Fiction website near you!)

Disclaimer: This is a Fan-fiction story of the Game Series; Time Crisis, and is in no way affiliated with the actual game. All Characters and other materials related to the game that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 (Aka Mimi) takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offense that may be taken but truly not meant.

However, this story plot and any Characters created by Elemental-Zer0 (Aka Mimi) are Copyright © 2009 to Elemental-Zer0 (Aka Mimi).


	2. Prologue

**Time Crisis: Ultimatum…**

**Summary:** The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any Intel, so they send in their best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgements... and they've taken the whole world hostage to get them.... (TC 1, II, 3 & 4 combo – Evan B. centred)

**Warnings:** This is an AU (_Alternate Universe_) Fic, meaning it does not follow the script or story of the Games… Well it might do in some areas but that's purely coincidental because I've only ever played TC4 in the arcade. Also all translations were done online with an online translator. If you can speak the languages I'm trying to translate and if you know it's wrong, could you please let me know because we all know online translators are sh-_bleeeeep_-…Thanks!

**Authors Note: **Ok, so this is a combination fic of Time Crisis 1, II, 3 & 4. But I've only ever played TC4 so all other info about the games I managed to find on Wikipedia. If I've got something terribly wrong, let me know, k? And yes I realise I've already got something wrong as Monmon-la pointed out in her review for the Preview, I know the villains were never caught in the games… but as I told her, perhaps that just means there's a prequel to this fic coming? Thanks Monmon-la!

As always, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (_It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any chapters…_)

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**Prologue: **

Thunder rumbled angrily outside. A howling wind raced through the old wooden house while the rain hammered at the windows as though in protest of what was about to happen.

A young woman sat morosely in the middle of the draughty room; wrists chained to a ring-pull on the floor. Even though she was of French origin, she wore a simple yellow yukata with her hair ornately decorated with pins and flowers.

Thunder rumbled again, softly this time; as though sympathising with the young woman's predicament. Slowly, she pulled her hands up to her swollen stomach and caressed the warm bump lovingly… before letting a few tears fall silently down her cheek.

"He's angry…" The voice didn't scare her; she'd been expecting this visitor.

"I know." She said, still caressing her belly. The visitor stepped forward into the room, revealing herself to be no more than a young teenaged girl, barely fourteen years old, her pretty face harbouring a practiced scowl. She stopped just beside the young woman, her cold eyes showing no sympathy but her presence being there screaming other wise.

"More so than he's ever been…" She continued, crossing her arms and leaning on her right hip. The young woman couldn't lift her eyes, couldn't face the child for the shame that she felt.

"I know." Her voice wobbled, an apology if but a small one. She knew the child would catch it, knew she'd understand.

The girl clenched her fists in her arms, before looking away from the woman. Remorse for what was to be said already threatening her dry eyes.

"He's going to kill you…" She didn't want it to be true, but it was. Her father was the intolerable type and would not tolerate such betrayal.

The young woman bowed her head lower, letting more tears escape her soft heart.

"I know…"

Thunder rumbled again loudly, unafraid to show its defiance and outrage while the rain only pounded harder at the glass windows, attacking with all their force but for nought. The woman was still, the girl shifting from one foot to the other casually.

They were quiet for a time.

"Sharon…" The woman spoke, finally lifting her eyes to look at the child before her. "Will you do something for me?" She asked, her eyes begging and pleading. Sharon, the girl, shifted her weight again and waited for the woman to continue. "When she's born… will you take her away? ...Take her away from all this?"

Suddenly a crack of thunder deafened the room, a resounding echo of the young mother's plea. And Sharon couldn't look away from the fearful eyes that seemed to ask for so little yet so much at the same time.

She struggled for words. The idea was insane. The planning alone for such an act would take years… and to suggest such an act of betrayal against her own family; her own father!

"Father would skin me alive!" She hissed, falling to her knees before the woman. He'd done it before, she'd seen. It hadn't been a fun memory.

"I know you can do it. I've seen you at work. I know how you think… You'll find a way to do it… Please." The woman's eyes had almost made the decision for her. "You know that what your father's doing is wrong. You know he shouldn't be able to get away with all of this! At least spare this baby that…" She trailed off, a look of shock and terror on her face. Sharon stared; confused until the woman looked down at the mat she was knelt on… Sharon followed her gaze and her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

Her waters had just broken.

Panicking now, she shot her head up and locked Sharon's gaze with her own frightened one. "Please! Promise me she'll have a better life! Promise me you'll get her away from this!" She squeaked in a frightened hiss. Too stunned to think straight, Sharon merely stared at her before turning coldly on the woman and rushing outside to call for the midwives.

How dare that traitor ask her for such absurdities?! The nerve!

She paused. Could she…?

_Would_ she…?

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**A/N:** Yes these aren't TC characters; these are my own for the plot development. But don't worry; next chapter will see mainly the TC4 unit… so keep reading!


	3. Chapter One

**Time Crisis: Ultimatum…**

**Summary**: The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any Intel, so they send in their best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgements... and they've taken the whole world hostage to get them.... (TC 1, II, 3 & 4 combo – Evan B. centred)

**Warnings:** This is an AU (_Alternate Universe_) Fic, meaning it does not follow the script or story of the Games… Well it might do in some areas but that's purely coincidental because I've only ever played TC4 in the arcade. Also all translations were done online with an online translator. If you can speak the languages I'm trying to translate and if you know it's wrong, could you please let me know because we all know online translators are sh-_bleeeeep_-…Thanks!

**Authors Note: **Hi guys! Sorry, I know its late but hey better late than never right? Anyways here's some TC action for you, mainly TC4 and 3 atm but there'll be more TC1 & II soon, I promise!

As always, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (_It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any chapters…_)

* * *

**Chapter One: **

_It was dark._

_The smell of smoke was overwhelming. _

_He was alone. _

_He couldn't move._

_He couldn't get out._

_He was fading… fast._

"_Evan!" He could hear his name being called… the voice seemed hoarse, well used. But he couldn't see anyone. _

_He was alone…_

_And it was so hot…_

"_Evan! __S'il vous plaît, réponde!" __This time he recognised the voice; it plagued him every night, in nightmares, in hallucinations, in his waking thoughts… but he could never respond._

"_Evan! Où êtes vous?! S'il vous plait! __Réponde!" She was getting louder - no, closer…her unsure footsteps tapping erratically, she was uncertain where to go… _

"_Evan!" Then suddenly she was there, shaking his shoulder violently but he couldn't see her… instead, images of strange men flashed behind his eyes, they frightened him terribly but he was too weak to do anything. "Evan, Evan! S'il vous plaît se réveiller! Evan!" She was crying, pleading for him to wake up. He could feel her fingers caressing his cheek, her hands so cold yet smooth against his flushed skin. _

"_Je suis tellement pardon…Je vouloir jamais permettre ça survenir à nouveau, Je promettre… __Dieu, ça c'est toutes mon tort…" _

He woke with a start, with only the peaceful midnight sounds of a large camp to greet him. "Merde…" He groaned as his body started feeding damage reports to his not-so-quite awake brain. He couldn't remember feeling this crap… ever. He blearily opened his eyes and just about focussed on the stars glittering harmlessly above; those last few words echoing in his mind like the chiming whispers of a ringing bell.

"_Je suis tellement pardon… Je vouloir jamais permettre ça survenir à nouveau, Je promettre… __Dieu, ça c'est toutes mon tort…" _

He didn't understand her then… and still didn't now.

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Agent Giorgio Bruno sighed for the umpteenth time that night. He hadn't been able to sleep at all. He couldn't; he was too worried. His newest partner had been injured severely and had been in critical condition by the time he'd finally found him. That had been two days ago and the kid still hadn't woken up…

Giorgio wasn't normally the type to worry and fret over his partners; he'd been through too many. All were rookies just like this one, and all died far too early and for stupid reasons too. Though he had to give this newbie some credit, he'd managed to survive a whole year, which was longer than most but he had yet to beat the record of fourteen months and three days.

He had honestly expected this one to go tonight but the stubborn bastard was still hanging on.

And he was somewhat glad too. For some reason, Agent Evan Bernard had somehow gotten under his skin. Giorgio could work with him; the kid knew how he moved, flowed with him and could take point if needed.

He trusted him.

Yes ok, sometimes he was brash and too forward, oftentimes rushing in before considering the entire situation first. But somewhere beneath that rushed push was an impossibly calculated plan that the kid managed to pull off every time. He certainly impressed the higher ups, and was starting to impress him too.

Until now…

But that wasn't fair. It had been an ambush and Evan just happened to be on the wrong recon team at the wrong time. As it was he was one of three survivors in a group of fourteen, so Giorgio reckoned he should be thankful for that small miracle.

The older Agent suppressed another sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to forestall the oncoming headache. He was growing a protective streak it seems; his concern for the young man laid down on the bed beside him being an obvious sign. But then this was the first kid to actually impress him.

The kid seemed to hold a certain spark about him; he was always smiling and so full of energy, was always joking around and enjoying life, but was laidback at the same time and just seemed to let life happen. It was like a beacon in the dark cold depressive abyss the older man had found himself trapped in since he'd lost his previous partners… before he'd been paired up with the young Frenchman.

But now the young man was fighting for his life, for that spark that was so rightfully his. And Giorgio was suddenly back in that forest clearing, seeing Evan laid prostrate across the forest floor, blood everywhere… the medic hadn't been optimistic with his recovery and had said that if he didn't wake up soon, the kid could slip into a coma.

He snorted at the thought and shook his head; Evan wouldn't stay down; he had too much talent, too much potential to let it all slip away. Besides, he was too stubborn to follow logic's steps…

"Dios…" He rubbed at his stinging eyes… '_Must be the lack of sleep…_' He smiled; all this thinking was giving him a headache. He gave another sigh and attempted to stand in hopes of finding a decent cup of coffee but a small groan stopped him before his butt could leave the seat…

"Merde…" He turned quickly to find Evan's face screwed up in pain. Giorgio's hopes soared! This was the closest Evan had come to arousing since he'd found him on the forest floor two days ago.

"Evan?" Giorgio asked uncertainly, hoping it wasn't just another morphine induced nightmare. He was rewarded with a pain-filled gaze blearily peering up at the sky above from under a set of half mast lids. Giorgio could tell the kid wasn't quite with him yet but that was fine as long as the kid was somewhat awake. "You sure know how to scare an old man kid…" He prompted, using an old argument to draw his partner's attention to him. Evan suddenly became aware of his presence and glanced over before registering the joke a little too late.

"Je ne pas une enfant…" Giorgio had no idea what the kid had just said but guessed it was something like _"I'm not a kid…"_ It would have been his typical response had he been completely conscious and had all pistons firing. It was an old joke where Giorgio had decided that Evan was still a kid and Evan had retaliated by calling him an old man, to which Giorgio had been taken by surprise and had been denying it ever since. Agent Giorgio Bruno wouldn't be classed as an old man until he was sitting in a retirement home and was bopping his grandchildren on his knee.

"Yeah, whatever kid… how're you feeling?" He asked, hoping that his partner would pick up on the English he was using and reply in kind…

"Semblable à... J'ai été écraser près... de une dix tonne bâtiment... " No such luck then… Giorgio sighed, seems like the kid was still in Lala land though he couldn't actually blame him; with the amount of morphine he'd seen the medics pumping into the poor kid he was surprised he was even forming full sentences, even if they were mostly gibberish to him.

"You know, you're going to have to speak English sometime soon, or I'm outta here." He saw the boy pause, his forehead creased a little, trying to work out what he'd been doing wrong… until;

"Sorry…" He muttered tiredly, his eyes closing for a second. Giorgio smiled.

"Aha, a word of the sane he speaks…" Evan opened his eyes again at that and gave a tired but pointed glare at the older man sat beside his bed. Giorgio smirked, finally satisfied that his partner was going to be alright.

"Whatever vieillard…" He muttered again before allowing his eyes to fall shut again, too tired to fight the urge to sleep. Giorgio frowned, not understanding the last word but knowing it couldn't mean anything good. Probably did that on purpose too…

"Sciocco bambino." He muttered using the nickname he'd given the kid on their first mission together in hopes of gaining some sort of response. But Evan simply remained silent, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and even… damn, the kid was out again.

* * *

The Head of the VSSE (Vital Situation, Swift Elimination) unit sat lazily in his leather desk chair, leaning back as he spoke to the phone through the speaker function. His secretary in the office outside frowned but remained silent. It was a business call.

"Any news?" He asked, getting straight to the point while twiddling his pen with his fingers and drumming his other hand on the side of the chair. The phone crackled before the other man replied;

"No, all is quiet now. We think the group that attacked were rogue guerrillas without a real plan. The Vidas' were quite surprised too by the looks of things." The Italian accented voice replied. The Head nodded, not really caring if the other man could see or not. Agent Giorgio Bruno would know anyway, he always did.

"And how's Evan?" He asked, already aware of the situation the young agent was in, but wanting a more solid confirmation regardless.

"He woke up a few hours ago, was lucid enough to recognise me. Wasn't even half a minute before he was out again though." Giorgio replied, sighing loudly. The Head smiled fondly;

"It's an improvement; at least he's not comatose…" He replied, trying to see the brighter side of the storm cloud.

"…yet. If he stays out here, he will be." Giorgio replied bitterly, resenting the decision the Head had made on their previous phone call.

"We've talked about this Gi… The medic says any rough travel could worsen his situation. I happen to agree with medics because generally they know what they're talking about…" The Head replied, not liking the situation any more than his seasoned agent but still level headed enough to know what was best for his men.

"Whatever…" The Italian man replied dejectedly, "Just remember, if we're attacked out here and he dies, it's your head I'm coming after." He threatened half-heartedly, knowing he wouldn't really do it but having made the threat he felt marginally better.

"You know Gi, this is a wonder in itself." The Head replied, also knowing the threat was an idle one.

"What is?" Giorgio asked curiously and if not a bit suspicious of the response. Anything he'd done that was remarked at as 'Wondrous', usually meant a high ranked mission next which would be impossible to complete but was expected to find a way to complete it anyway…

"You're actually worrying about a partner!" The Head replied grinning like a Cheshire cat. Giorgio grimaced. "Does this mean I won't have to keep looking for more recruits?" The Head continued to tease.

"Shut it vecchio, Bruno out." Giorgio replied harshly and hung up. The Head let out a laugh as the connection vanished before closing the connection on his phone too.

Then he sat in silence for a moment. He'd only put on the light-hearted façade in order to keep his men's hopes high, but deep inside he was scared for them; for Evan who lay mortally wounded in an enemy infested jungle with no certain way on knowing if he'll survive without more sophisticated medical equipment; for Giorgio who seemed to lose partners more often than not and with every partner, a piece of him goes with them; for Richard who seemed to prefer the solitary life with no plan and no backup; for Wesley who nearly cracked when he almost lost Alan and for Alan who almost lost his mind completely; and for Keith and Robert who were currently in Tokyo, Japan investigating the rumours of a new found organization that they'd overheard about in the underground.

But this was what his boys did. They risked their lives for the safety of everyone else and they did it without a second thought. They were unknown heroes.

Ring… Ring, ring…

And one of them was calling. The Head shook himself out of his reverie and smiled, which one was it this time? He pushed the speaker button on his phone and waited.

"Sir, we got him. Mr Fred Boudreaux is now in custody." Agent Alan Dunaway's voice practically grinned through the phone. "All Nukes have been disarmed and are on their way to HQ and there were only a few casualties, their side, not ours. Though Wes's shoulder could do with some TLC." A muffled retort echoed through the phone, which the Head assumed was Agent Wesley Lambert rebuking his partner.

"Good work boys, come on home I want to hear all about it." He replied with a happy spark to his voice. He was relieved; they seemed to be back to their old selves again.

"Yes Sir. Uh a question if I may Sir?" Alan asked, something obviously irking him somewhat. The Head was suddenly alert but kept his voice friendly.

"Sure, Al. What's eating ya?" He asked. Alan made a shushing sound away from the phone, probably telling Wesley to quieten down.

"Uh, we heard about Evan. Is he…?" Dead? The Head could hear the unasked question as clear as if the agent had asked it aloud. Truth was, the Head didn't know how bad the young agent was, sure he had been sent the reports but he was no doctor.

"We don't know yet. He's alive and Gi said he woke up earlier but it looks like he's in for a long recovery. At the moment we can't move him, the journey might kill him." Then an idea hit him. "Say boys, how do you feel about acting as back up? Gi mentioned an imminent attack soon and they'll need all the help they can get." And maybe Evan might have a fighting chance with more friends out there to protect him should an attack ever happen.

"I'm game, Wes might have to take a rain check depending on how bad his shoulder is but I'm sure he'll follow when he can." Alan replied, but another muffled retort told the Head that Wesley wasn't happy with that plan. The older agent didn't seem to want to let the younger one out of his sight since their last major mission and to be honest, the Head couldn't blame him.

"We'll discuss it when you get back. Safe journey boys." The Head replied and smiled for real this time.

"Sure boss, see you soon. Dunaway out." And the phone was quiet again. The Head sighed. Soon all his boys would be home and safe.

He couldn't wait.

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**A/N;** Ok, so how's that for some TC action? I know there's not a lot yet but don't worry, it'll come. Still to come; Robert and Keith's mission updates and Richie's on his way home… and what's this; another surprise for Evan and Gi? Tune in next time to find out!


	4. Chapter Two

**Time Crisis: Ultimatum…**

**Summary**: The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any Intel, so they send in their best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgements... and they've taken the whole world hostage to get them.... (TC 1, II, 3 & 4 combo – Evan B. centred)

**Warnings:** This is an AU (_Alternate Universe_) Fic, meaning it does not follow the script or story of the Games… Well it might do in some areas but that's purely coincidental because I've only ever played TC4 in the arcade. Also all translations were done online with an online translator. If you can speak the languages I'm trying to translate and if you know it's wrong, could you please let me know because we all know online translators are sh-_bleeeeep_-…Thanks!

**Authors Note: **o.o!Oh wow… *_**blows dust off this story**_* -_coughs,_ er heheh oops. Guess this one's been on the shelf for a while now… maybe I should update it?

Oh yes and thank you to 'Shiroi-kamaitachi' for the grammatical mistakes in my French attempts lol. I will update those as soon as I can, I promise!

As always, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (_It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any chapters…_)

* * *

**Chapter Two: **

The halls of the Pei'toras Temple, Amazon Rainforest, Brazil were dark and quiet. A morbid depressing feeling crept along the spines of all who walked them, as though the spirits who'd died protecting or destroying the place years ago were still restless and wary; were still watching and waiting for a good fight.

But to ex-RAF Colonel Lionel Fergusson, the feel of victory was in the air. No dead eyes stared at him as he walked with a skip in his step to what used to be the chapel of the once great castle. His news was good… for him. For the world though, well that was a matter of opinion. If they were ready for mass hysteria and global domination, then it was very good news indeed… if not? Well, those people may have a very small problem.

"Tell me you have good news. I grow tired of waiting." Lionel looked up at the stone wall on which several screens had been fitted to. Five state of the art (_stolen_) LCD screens were quiet, still, off. But the largest main screen in the middle was lit up and glowing softly; the image of a large man sat in the shadows of his own home, played contentedly across the display.

"I have news of the best kind. We are ready to move to phase two." Lionel replied, bowing ever so slightly, acknowledging who was in command… for now.

"Excellent. Have them start mass producing immediately. I want phase three to begin as soon as possible." The large man replied, his tone allowing for no mistakes.

"Yes Sir. They have already begun." Lionel said, earning a sneer which was to be taken as a smile.

"You've outdone yourself Colonel. You will be suitably rewarded. Continue to oversee the production of my new toys and I will ponder your bonus. Update me in a week." The large man requested before terminating the communications link.

Lionel sneered at the blank screen. If only the fool knew what he was planning for the 'big boss.'

Money only bought half a man's soul… power would sell it all.

* * *

"What's going on Roger?" Giorgio asked over the din of several helicopters landing just outside their base camp and had also been the ruckus that had woken him from his troubled sleep. A young Intel agent looked up to see the seasoned agent scowling in confusion at the beasts that were landing twenty feet away from them. For weeks the helicopters had been on alert and standby because of several downed men and their severe conditions – Evan's included – but could do nothing until the small civil war had been nullified. Had the enemy spotted an 'enemy aircraft' landing they'd attack it relentlessly, thus putting the patients in a more severe situation, not to mention also giving away their location to the enemy as well. Most of the patients had been taxied out to a safe pick up spot but for some, like Evan, the terrain was too rough for their injuries to hold out on. Evan's punctured spleen could re open; the kid'd never survive another field operation, the fever alone would kill him.

"The renegades just gave up sir, all exiting and surrendering as we speak. They gave no reason but we suspect their leader abandoned them." Roger replied succinctly. And Giorgio had to blink. Never in his life had this happened. The leader ran away? No, something deeper was going on here.

"Search the ruins and question the prisoners, I have a feeling this was just a cover for a much deeper motive." Giorgio barked out as he turned and made his way to the medic's tent. '_Finally, I can get Evan out of this dump._' His frown deepened, '_but at what cost?_'

* * *

Wesley stared at Alan with a confused look upon his face. "They just, gave up?" He asked, disbelief still evident in his voice. It was almost too good to be true. Like a miracle even. Alan nodded nonchalantly.

"Yup, that's what the chief said," The younger agent confirmed, "They're securing all the prisoners as we speak but Gi's ordered a complete search and interrogation." He added as he sat back down in his seat. Wesley nodded in agreement, fingering the sling on his right arm with a scowl. They were currently on a plane headed toward the Pei'Tora Ruins as back up and support but now it seems they'll only be escorting their friend to safety; a preferred alternative.

"He thinks there's more to this operation than what we're seeing." Wesley stated. It wasn't a question. Never had an operation this dedicated just given up and never had a criminal leader just run away from the heat when such a set up proved that said leader was somewhat of a genius in his field. "What about Evan?" He asked, rolling his shoulder and wincing at the pain that shot through his arm and across his chest. Damned dislocation.

"He's still alive. Staples are holding, and his spleen is still working but his blood pressure dropped fractionally a few hours ago. They're waiting for us before attempting to move him, something about psychological rebound and support. Gi's pushing to leave ASAP but the medics are fighting for more time to keep him stable. Any rough travel could lessen his chances of survival." Alan explained. Wesley snorted at that logic.

"But he's more likely to die out there without proper treatment." He countered, agreeing with Giorgio's sentiments. If it'd been Alan on that gurney, he'd be doing the same thing.

"Yeah I know, but this is Evan, he never does anything by the book right?" Alan reminded him with a wide grin. Wesley returned it half heartedly.

"Yeah you're right." He conceded, "Though I swear, one day that boy's luck is going to run out, and then the shit'll hit the fan."

* * *

The market streets were close, hot and bustling with creaking stalls and sweaty customers. The smell ranged from rotten eggs to decaying cabbage to festering urine and rotting produce depending on where one stood. Agent Robert Baxter sneered at the place with a hint of disgust, honestly, couldn't the underground criminal organization have picked a better place to hide their information? And where was Keith? His partner had disappeared a few hours ago to check the perimeter and was now two minutes late for reporting in.

"Baxter, its Martin you there?" Speak of the devil…

"What the hell Martin!?" Robert growled loudly into his earpiece, subtly putting an old cell phone to his ear so that passers by wouldn't think he was a nut job or worse – suspicious looking.

"Sorry," Keith apologised, "But hey, I found Miller and we had to play it cool for a second. We found some guys up on Eastcoast who said there's an old harbour on SouthQuay. He reckoned there might be a rat inside. We're there now and I can see some cargo on the planks, same logo as before; it's the Sinclair's." The younger agent reported, Robert was already moving.

"SouthQuay? I'm ten minutes away; wait for me. Don't do anything stupid." He said, the authoritative tone leaving no room for argument.

"Would I?" Keith bit back not even bothering to hide the click of the safety catch on his Glock 17 flicking off.

"Just stay alive until I get there… I want the pleasure you killing you myself, bitch." Robert replied, jumping into a run.

"Whatever old man, just try to catch up." Keith teased from the other end of the line. The brat wasn't going to listen, he had to change tactics, get Richard to override the mission for a standby.

"Miller! You keep his scrawny ass stationary until I get there. No point getting two people killed and having the third walk into a trap." He heard Keith growl but Richard Miller's strong voice overpowered the sound.

"Copy that. Miller and Martin awaiting your arrival. Just hurry up. Time's ticking." Robert sighed in relief, no way was that bitch going on a hunt without him. Thank heavens for small miracles like Richard.

"Copy that, I'm five minutes away. Over and out."


	5. Chapter Three

**Time Crisis: Ultimatum…**

**Summary**: The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any Intel, so they send in their best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgements... and they've taken the whole world hostage to get them... (TC 1, II, 3 & 4 combo – Evan B. centred)

**Warnings:** This is an AU (_Alternate Universe_) Fic, meaning it does not follow the script or story of the Games… Well it might do in some areas but that's purely coincidental because I've only ever played TC4 in the arcade. Also all translations were done online with an online translator. If you can speak the languages I'm trying to translate and if you know it's wrong, could you please let me know because we all know online translators are sh-_bleeeeep_-…Thanks!

**Authors Note: **And here's Chapter three... yeah had it all on paper so figured I'd update two chapters for ya. Don't expect the next one for a while though as I'm updating my Mentalist fiction and helping a friend with his overhaul. Why was I cursed with such a busy life?

**Authors Note 2:** My apologies, I realised I had a typo error in this chapter wherein Richard had stated he was driving. This is wrong; it should be Robert Baxter who states he's driving and not Richard. Again my apologies.

As always, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (_It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any chapters…_)

* * *

**Chapter Three: **

"It's the Sinclair's alright…" Robert moaned as he peeped through the hi-tech binoculars that Richard had handed to him merely forty-seven seconds ago, when he had arrived. The soft green view of the crates that were sitting in the open docking bay and waiting to be moved inside the warehouse, zoomed in on the Sinclair logo stamped on every crate in the bay; a samurai sword entwined symmetrically by two serpents with a fox sat upon the hilt, nine tails flared out in a fan shape behind it. A Japanese designed crest. The Chief wasn't going to like this. The Japanese were going to chew their asses out for this one, and probably want to send in their own team to 'help' get the job done. The fact that the agents were in their country carrying out official business to begin with was worthy of an ass-kicking already.

Well no one could do anything without hard evidence. And that was what Robert, Keith and Richard were here for tonight; hard, raw evidence that the Sinclair family were trafficking illegal weapons. All they had to do was take a crate and possibly a suspect and get both back to HQ for processing.

Piece of cake, right?

"See that truck over there?" Richard spoke up, gesturing to a blue, unmarked, open-back truck parked conveniently next to the bay area. Robert panned the binoculars to said truck and grunted his agreement. He could see the plan as Richard explained it; get a crate on the truck and get outta there before anyone realises they were there.

He put the binoculars away and took out his Jericho 941 Semi automatic, making sure he had a full magazine before the mission started. They didn't intend to get caught but it was always better to be prepared for a fight rather than have it creep up on you. That could get messy.

"I take it we're going for the crate?" Keith asked as he too checked his firearm; the Glock 17 clicked nicely into place with a reassuring sound.

Robert grunted, putting his firearm back in its holster. "I'm driving." He said with no room for argument. It was logical really, Robert was the best driver; he could hot wire the truck in seconds and his manoeuvrability in any vehicle had yet to be rivalled. He'd need both hands to drive if it came to a fight and flight situation. It was up to Richard and Keith to get the crate in the truck and keep up the defence and cover fire if it came to that. They were hoping for a nice easy steal but it was never easy for VSSE agents. That's why they were the ones on the job; because things could – and normally do – get hairy.

"Ready?" Richard asked as they each prepared themselves. Two affirmatives echoed on either side of him. He cast his eyes out to the docking bay and waited until the coast was clear.

"Ok, let's go."

* * *

The plane had touched down nearly half an hour ago and already Alan and Wesley were well on their way to the base camp where Giorgio was impatiently awaiting their arrival. The hot humid air and the thick concern over a fallen friend hung in the air as they travelled in silence on the back of a well worn jeep.

Wesley winced. Every bump jarred his shoulder and sent rippling pains through his chest and down his arm. The painkillers had long since worn off and the supply in his shirt pocket had to last him until he got back to HQ. Which was quite possibly a few days from now. '_Suck it up wimp_.' He told himself, '_you've survived with worse than this before_.'

"How's the shoulder?" Alan asked from his seat, his fists holding on for dear life. Trust the empathetic brat to notice his mood and what it was directed at. Wesley sighed, there really was no point hiding his thoughts from the younger agent; the kid was psychic, he had to be. No way could anyone read him that well.

"It's fine." He threw back, knowing his partner would see otherwise but also knowing he'd let the subject drop. Alan knew that if Wesley really was in any pain that he couldn't cope with the older agent would let him know and let Alan decide whether they would continue the mission or not. But seeing as they were only meeting up with friends and escorting them home, there wasn't really much to complain about. Wesley was a sharp shooter with both hands, so even with one arm down and an enemy decided to attack, he'd still be able to fight. Alan knew this but it didn't stop him from sending his partner a worried glance.

"You give me that sentimental look again and I'm gonna show you how fine my shoulder is." Wesley growled at him without even looking at the man. Alan failed to suppress a smile and looked away. He could see activity up ahead and knew that they had finally arrived.

"Hey, we're here." He said and stood up as the jeep came to a rolling halt just inside the camp. Giorgio wasn't the one to greet them but he had sent someone to 'haul their asses to him as soon as they arrived' in the form of Intelligence Agent P. Rogers.

"Hi guys, he's in the medic tent." He greeted as the two agents jumped off their ride. Rogers moved swiftly, leading them to the tent they needed to be in. "He's not in a good mood as you can imagine. Agent Bernard's blood pressure keeps dropping by minute measurements but it's a constant drop. Field docs say they don't want to operate again, its too risky with such rudimentary equipment here." The tent loomed closer and both Wesley and Alan could hear the argument that echoed across the settlement from within. One voice had a very distinct Italian accent.

"Why have they waited? If he needs more sophisticated equipment he needs to be moved now." Wesley asked, rolling his shoulder painfully again. He studiously ignored Alan's glance.

"As you know, his spleen was ruptured. The spleen is the main organ in the body that keeps the immune system running. If Evan was moved before certain inoculations were administered, a simple cold could kill him." At that, both Wesley and Alan stopped and looked at each other. They were only meters away form the medic tent but the thought of losing a friend like that… Rogers stopped with them and continued gently. "The field doc wants to treat him as though he has AIDS just to be safe. He's had most of the normal inoculations, and he's been topped up on the ones he took before this mission. We're just waiting on a few more to arrive with the next helicopter before it's safe to move him." The Intel Agent paused and looked at his watch, "Which should be here in the next few hours or so." He said. Both Wesley and Alan turned to the tent where it had gone eerily quiet. A cold sweat ran down both their spines. No one had imagined it was this bad for Evan.

"Well, no point hanging around outside…" Wesley sighed, running his uninjured hand through his blond hair. Alan gave him a half hearted smirk and followed his partner as they both entered the medic's tent.

"About time you clowns showed up." Giorgio's scowl met them face to face. The older agent was certainly intimidating as he stood there; his arms folded across his chest and his round rimmed sunglasses perched on his nose so that his eyes peeked over the rims at them.

"Sorry Gi." Alan offered nervously. Giorgio's moods and tempers were famous for a reason; he rarely ever lost his cool but when things got hairy or if Evan was the centre of trouble – as he usually was – even a Tempest couldn't control the storm that was Giorgio Bruno.

"How is he?" Wesley asked, knowing how the older man felt. Back when Alan had been… well, let's just say their last 'near-death' mission hadn't been easy for Wesley's emotions. He sympathised with the Italian agent somewhat.

"He's awake. Can't wait to see you two for some reason. I told him you were on your way. Should have seen the smile on his face." Giorgio replied, his scowl diminishing slightly. "Be gentle with him. He's not supposed to be awake as it is. He's fighting the sedatives. Damn brat." He turned then and started walking to the bed that was Evan's. Alan pushed ahead, stopping at the injured agent's bedside. Those two had been friends since the get go; in fact, it was Evan who'd managed to get Alan back to his senses. Wesley frowned a little; it was also Evan who'd gotten him under control. The kid was a good agent… and a good friend.

It was funny really; Wesley had been with the VSSE for four years now but then came along a rookie agent of only one year and out of all the seasoned agents, _he_ was the only one who made him stop and think. Evan Bernard sure was something. Wesley owed that man everything.

So when he stopped at the end of Evan's bed and looked upon the agent; he had to stop himself from gasping. The kid was as white as the sheets he was laid on; tubes and needles poked out of him like a human pincushion; several machines beeped and hummed around him. Never had he seen the hyper, happy-go-lucky agent look so tired and… _dead_.

"Evan?" Alan's voice was a soft whisper, a cautious question. Bleary blue eyes fluttered open before settling on the man who'd become his best friend. He gave a tired smile.

"Alan… il ne restait pas…" Giorgio huffed from his spot, obviously having dealt with this gibberish before, while Wesley looked a little confused.

"Non, mon ami, il ne restait pas. Je suis ici. Wesley aussi. Comment faites-vous?" Yes, Alan knew French, just as he knew Italian and Portuguese. And it often annoyed the other agents too. Who knew what the two youngest agents were planning half the time?

All the Agents knew more than one language; it was common sense seeing as they were usually dispatched around the world for lengthy times but it was Evan who had mastered most of the languages, a close second was Richard Miller who knew only six less than Evan. He was officially their anthropologist in a sense; he was good with all the locals, he had a strong general knowledge of the societies of each language he knew, and he was a general history buff too. Who'd have thought that such a laid back, childlike kid was such a genius? That's what was so appealing to him when the VSSE came across him all those months ago.

Now though, Giorgio was resenting the VSSE for finding him. If the kid had stayed with the Coast Guard Troop back in France, he wouldn't be in this mess. The kid was far too young and full of life to survive this job… and yet, for a year now, he's been defying death and physics left right and centre.

"Je suis fin... C'est juste une égratignure... honnête." Evan's thready voice replied. His tired eyes fighting the weight of sleep that tried to overpower him. Alan gave a quiet chuckle but offered no translation.

"Idiot. Est-cela pourquoi vous êtes dans un lit d'hôpital qui combat l'envie dormir?" He asked, still leaving the other two in the dark. His focus was on his fallen friend. Until Evan was fast asleep and in the safety of a morphine induced coma for the journey ahead of them, he wasn't going to care much about anything else.

"Je suis fin... Je le prouverai... Nous jouerons du rugby plus tard... Je donnerai un coup de pied votre âne." Evan replied, his voice losing its volume as the sedatives and morphine lulled him into a tired stupor. Alan laughed again, his friend's hand in a gentle grip of his own.

"Chose sûre. Les nous jouant du rugby plus tard... Endormir Evan, l'arrêt il qui combat." He spoke again, his tone calming and soothing. Giorgio guessed he was trying to help the kid drift off.

"Je ne veux pas dormir... me sent comme j'ai dormi depuis longtemps..." And Giorgio could tell from the hush of Evan's voice that he was unwillingly falling asleep despite his efforts to stay awake. He watched from the end of the bed as his partner's eyes closed, then opened a few seconds later only to close again and have the pattern repeat several time.

"Faire taire... le sommeil... nous serons toujours ici quand vous vous réveillez... Evan de sommeil..." And just like that, Alan had managed to get Evan to fall asleep. The young agent watched his friend's face for a long minute afterwards before finally enlightening the other two agents. "He's really out of it." He said, not taking his eyes off his bedridden friend. The two were practically brothers save for the blood relation side of things. "Said he wanted to get up and play rugby. Said he was gonna kick my ass to prove he was alright." He chuckled again, finally looking up at the two older agents. "The ignorant prat…" Giorgio grunted, it sounded like something Evan would say.

"Anything we can do before the inoculations arrive?" Wesley asked, feeling rather useless just standing there and watching a friend sleep. Giorgio shifted his weight slightly and crossed his arms across his chest again.

"Well, sleeping beauty here should be out now until we reach HQ but I want someone to watch over him. If Alan's fine staying here, I need some help with a few interrogations. Feeling up to it?" The older agent asked, a knowing smirk on his lips. Wesley smirked too and rolled his shoulder, feeling the twinge of pain rush across his chest and down his arm again. Yeah, he was a tad pissed off; getting your shoulder dislocated and then witnessing a friend in such a state in less than twelve hours would piss anyone off. He felt a little TLC with some terrorists would cure all that right up.

"Sure, I need to blow off a bit of steam." He replied, massaging his injured shoulder. "Where are they?" He asked, watching as Alan pulled up a chair and gave him a warning glance; '_don't over do it_' was written all over that look. Wesley just winked at the guy and followed Giorgio out of the tent.

"Follow me."


	6. Chapter Four

**Time Crisis: Ultimatum…**

**Summary**: The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any Intel, so they send in their best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgements... and they've taken the whole world hostage to get them... (TC 1, II, 3 & 4 combo – Evan B. centred)

**Warnings:** This is an AU (_Alternate Universe_) Fic, meaning it does not follow the script or story of the Games… Well it might do in some areas but that's purely coincidental because I've only ever played TC4 in the arcade. Also all translations were done online with an online translator. If you can speak the languages I'm trying to translate and if you know it's wrong, could you please let me know because we all know online translators are sh-_bleeeeep_-…Thanks!

**Authors Note: **Ok, as I warned on my profile, I've been updating a few random chapters for random fics because they were either already finished and just needed tweaking or were half written and easy to close for the next one. This one was in fact half written so now I've completed it and will work on the most voted fic to update. Check out my profile for the next poll and vote for whichever story you want updated next, the closing date for the next poll will be 30th November 2010.

As always, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (_It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any chapters…_)

* * *

**Chapter Four: **

The sound of the sea splashing against the pier supports and washing itself upon the sands beneath the docks were usually a calming and relaxing sound to most, but to Keith, Robert and Richard it meant that they had precious little time if those calming sounds were to suddenly disappear.

The truck was only a few meters ahead, the coast was clear, they had the crate already. Richard shook his head, why were his senses telling him that danger was about to strike? He couldn't put his feelings into words but it felt like the calm, quiet, breezy moment that occurred just before the torrential rain's poured from the sky. But being the seasoned agent that he was, he kept to the plan and remained cautious of the lurking danger that seemed to have them surrounded.

The warehouse was silent. The docks were silent. Even the sliding of the crate into the truck bed was somewhat silent. It was like someone had turned the volume down on a television screenplay. That's when he heard it; the soft click of a hammer pulling back inside the casing of a Smith & Wesson .45 ACP Compact semi-automatic. Without needing to, he yelled at his two accomplices to shift ass. Robert was already gunning the engine when the first shot was fired, two .45 calibre bullets marking the bed mere millimetres from Keith's head as the two men ducked into the truck bed and held on for their lives.

Richard recovered first, being the seasoned agent that he was and quickly found a sturdy position to ride the truck's erratic movements and try to pinpoint the shooters angle to take him out. It was difficult with all the crates and shadows, the movement hinderd his shadow sight and so his foresight was all he could rely on for now. His years of experience had yielded to worse scenarios. To him this was but a walk in the park compared to some of the jobs he'd done. Keith however was not having such a great walk in the park.

"Damnit Baxter, are you throwing them off or me?" He yelled in frustration as the truck turned yet another corner, drifting slightly to make the corner with minimal loss of speed. Keith fumbled for a hold before finding one.

"You wanna come up here and drive?" Robert yelled back, pumping the accelerator to get the truck moving again. The tyres screeched loudly in the quiet docks as he tried to navigate through the labyrinth of crates. Keith growled loudly in an effort to right himself but was pushed back down, resulting in him landing on his back and looking up at the cloudless night sky. Then several things happened at once; the crate began to slide toward the open back just as a sillohuette leaped into the sky, falling toward the truck and the truck swerved yet again unbalancing his precarious hold again.

Keith swore and made a quick decision. Thinking outside the box was an art that not many possessed, but for Keith? That was his way of walking in the park. He timed it perfectly; letting go of his handle he pushed himself toward the open rear, racing past the crate and landing with his feet on either side of the bracket that held the door for the truck bed that was bouncing around helplessly. The crate slammed into his back but held fast as he countered the force with his legs keeping the two forces at an equillibrium. Then he took aim at the falling intruder and shot the bugger right between the eyes.

"Miller cover the front, I'm aiming high and rear!" He called back to the senior agent who took the plan as it came, trusting the younger agent to deal his end of the plan. "Hurry it up Baxter, we're sitting ducks out here!" He called again, this time to his partner who was having a hard time trying to avoid getting hit from the front. With the windscreen shattered on the passengers side but still in place with several cracks across his view, he was having a hard time navigating.

"I'm trying bitch!" Robert called back but quickly swerved to avoid the large industrial tacks that someone had purposely placed in his path. Gaining a flat tyre at such a critical point in the mission just wasn't how he wanted to go down. Yeah, he was an awesome driver but even he'd have trouble pulling that one off. But before he could dwell on that further, a shadow ahead jumped and landed with a thud on the bonnet. His view was suddenly gone, replaced with the barrel of an AK47.

"Shit!" But his instincts took over and he swerved the truck a little to unbalance the enemy before whipping out his Jericho 941 and let off two rounds into the dark mass that was now only partially blocking his view. He swerved again, knocking the body off the truck but he still couldn't see clearly; the blood splatter had left the windscreen completely useless. He aimed again at the windscreen and shot a few more rounds, effectively making himself a view hole to see through. He ignored the slivers of glass that washed over him as he drifted round another corner and found a view that made him smile; the exit.

"Hold on guys, I'm about to give you some cover!" He called back and revved the engine to escape faster. The ramp cackled loudly under the truck as they bumped up onto the dirt road that led to the main highway, with tall trees for miles on either side of the road.

"About damned time too, old man!" Keith called back, letting off a few more rounds as a few people shot at them from the gates. Robert gave a quick 'tch' in response, his concentration now focussed on losing any possible chasers and finding a place to lay low for a while.

"Miller! You got a comms link to HQ?" He yelled over the engine that whined and complained the entire time. "I need a place to head for. Local sites are not available with the way we look right now. I need a body-swap and a destination." He called out, knowing that they'd understand what he meant and that one of them would relay the information and get him what he needed.

"That's going to hurt the embassy bro!" Keith called back, still keeping an eye out for chasers. And just as he finished he sentence, three came into view; two motorcycles and a modified jeep. Crap.

"I don't give a shit about the embassy right now. They can't try us if we ain't alive and the evidence is gone now can they?" He called back, venting a little now that he had clear roads in front of him. The highway was just up ahead, dirt track leading to tarmac. "Fuck the embassy, fuck the courts and fuck their damned jurisdiction. These people are dealing armed weapons and drugs illegally and we got the evidence in our hands. That's enough to lock 'em up for life! So screw the fuckers who think that paperwork saves the fucking day!" He growled slightly as the tyres lost traction and wheelspinned for a second as they drifted to make the sharp turn before they finally made it safely onto the main highway. He ignored the several horns that blared at him from behind and swerved to overtake several slower cars in the middle lane. He heard the screech of tyres and the revving engines of two motorcycles as they too shot out of the dirt road and onto the highway. Damn. Losing these bastards was gonna be difficult with the way they looked right now.

"Baxter, take the third exit." Miller's voice yelled. "We'll lose them in the market place, then head for Kyoto after we change trucks. There's a helicopter waiting for us there." Help had finally arrived. He had his destination; his mind mapped out the market place that he'd memorized before the mission and recalled several hidey holes he could lose the tailers in.

Robert grinned.

"Alright, let's do this!"

* * *

"Damn, that bastard's one tough nut to crack." Wesley stated as he rolled his shoulder for the umpteenth time. It was about time he took some of his pain meds, but he decided to wait until he was in the medic tent so Alan could see he'd taken them rather than having the annoying bugger nag him about them. Giorgio smirked as they walked back through the makeshift helipads.

"He did crack though." He commented, "Just a shame he didn't know anything more than what we already knew." Wesley grunted in response just before a loud motor began to drown out all other sounds from above them. Both agents looked up to see an air ambulance heading for the helipad next to them. Giorgio's heart leapt into his throat as he recognised the logo on the helicopter and just knew this was the delivery he'd been anxiously waiting for. Now, maybe they could finally get Evan home and in safer hands.

"Let me guess." Wesley remarked after seeing Giorgio's face relax in relief, "Our ride's here." He stated, returning his gaze back to the helicopter and watching as the doors opened, letting a flock of paramedics jump out.

"Looks like it could be." Giorgio replied as one of the paramedics spotted them and broke away from the gathering. He was dressed differently wearing a green coat with the flourescent letters reading 'DOC' on the top left lapel. In his right hand he carried a clipboard and what looked to be a cool box in the other.

"Agent Bruno?" He asked in strong voice. He was a taller man, the same height as Giorgio but not as broad or bulky. He preffered the slimmer look it seemed. His salt and pepper hair was cut short and he had twinkling hazel eyes that calculated the two agents from behind his thick rimmed spectacles; the stylish ones that Specsavers constantly recommend.

"Si, are you here for Evan?" Giorgio asked, knowing he was but decided to be polite. The man held up the 'cool box' Giorgio had notcied earlier and smiled knowing that the agent had been waiting for the innoculations held inside.

"Sorry we're late, even with millitary clearance customs can still be a bitch to get through." He explained as Giorgio pointed him in the right direction by leading the way to the medic tent. "I'm Doctor Hawkes by the way, I'll be the attending doctor in the air ambulance untill we land in the capital. From there I'll be handing Agent Bernard over to a Doctor Hughes who'll keep an eye on him on the plane until you land on familiar ground. From there, a Doctor Stevens will take him to the hospital and will be his doctor until he recovers. She'll want to open him up again to see where the leak is but for a specialist doctor in one of the most high tech infirmaries, I don't think she'll have any problems." It was helpful, Giorgio realised, when the doctor explained what would be happening. It put his mind at ease now that he knew the game plan. Stilll, it was a long ride back to HQ, and an even longer recovery prediction. He looked forward to the plane ride, those comfy chairs were calling him. Had to be far better than the wooden chairs here or the uncomfortable camp beds he'd been sleeping on when not watching over his partner.

"How soon can he travel after these shots?" He asked, reiterating his anxiety in getting his partner some place safer and back in stable condition.

"We're keeping the engines running Agent Bruno. It'll take me about twenty minutes to give him the shots then pack him up and secure him into the air ambulance. You might want to go pack your things." Dr Hawkes smiled. "And his things too." He added as an after thought, but Giorgio was smirking. Wesley knew the agent had already packed up his and Evan's belongings long before the helicopter had arrived.

"Don't need to worry about that Doc; if I know G-man here, their stuff was packed and ready to go long before Evan ended up the way he is." He said, rolling his shoulder again and wincing at the growing pain. He took out his pain meds just as they entered the medic tent and made sure Alan was watching when he popped the pills into his mouth and dry-swallowed them whole. The younger dark haired agent narrowed his eyes anyway at the blatant mockery Wesley performed and made to open his mouth to say something but Wesley gave him a look that told him to 'shove it' before he could say anything.

"Here we go." Dr Hawkes muttered to himself as he picked up Evan's medical chart from the end of his bed. "Agent Evan Bernard, age 25, caucasian male… a high rise carpenter in his off duty time eh? Handy fellow to know then." He mused out loud while a white coated doctor came over to them. He gave Girogio a wary glance, obviously having been on the wrong end of the agent's wrath a few times, before speaking up.

"I'm Doctor Harolds, I'm the field doctor assigned to Agent Bernard here. Can I be of any assistance?" He asked, directing his question to the only other doctor present. Girogio tuned the medical jargon out and settled his gaze on the sleeping form of his cheeky energetic partner. He was not envious of the kid's position but if he had the chance, he'd have swapped their places in a heartbeat. He knew that beneath the whole tough guy act Evan was just a rookie; a newbie in the VSSE and had needed a role model to learn from; someone to look to when things got out of hand or he found himself in way over his head.

The two of them just 'clicked' on their first assignment together and both seemed to just flow with one another's movement, they could read eachother and compensate for one anothers handicaps. So it was sometimes very hard to remember that he was still the youngest and newest member of the VSSE family and if they weren't careful, that dangerous assumption could get the kid killed.

But Evan was a genious. His strategizing ability and 'out-of-the-box' thinking was second only to Richard Miller and on par with Keith Martin and the kid's multicultural talents and creative hands were an asset most agents were jealous of. The kid was a fast thinker too and could brew up ideas on the spot. He'd come up with a plan, see the mechanics of it all and (most of the time) made it happen the way he wanted it to. The whole act made it look like he was just a lucky hot-headed, act-before-thinking runt.

However, this time his wits had failed him. He was lucky to come out of it alive. Giorgio berated himself again.

"Hey. Suck it up." Wesley's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. Giorgio's mood must have shown on his face. "Shit happens. He knew the risks involved, we all do. This was his decision." The other agent said and smirked at the older man. "He taught me that." Wesley added, reffering to what he'd gone through when Alan had… yeah, bad memories.

"Si, you're right. I guess we have to live with the choices we make… and the consequences they bear." Giorgio replied, acknowledging Wesley's attempt at a pep talk. "Damn kid's gonna be the death of me." He sighed and chuckled at the inside joke while Wesley just snorted and smirked.

"I know the feeling." He agreed and glanced meaningfully at his partner who was still sat by the bed. "Still, I wouldn't change him." He said, stretching his arm out now that the pain was slowly disappearing. "I'm worried I'm gonna lose him every damned day, but if he's with me where I can see him, atleast I have the chance to save his ass if it comes to it. And I _know_ the feeling's mutual. I swear, if he gives me one more sympathy glance I'm gonna kill him myself." He chuckled and stepped backwards out of the way of the two doctors who had just finished administering the last innoculations. He felt Giorgio relax a little beside him. The guy must've been wound up tight since the day he'd found his partner in the clearing three weeks ago. Wesley knew from regular reports they'd been receiving that it had been touch and go for the first week and both he and Alan had feared they'd lose a friend before the month was out. But Evan was a fighter; a strong spirited fighter who'd given death the finger and dragged his sorry ass back to the land of the living.

It was a constant joke that Lady Luck had a thing for the boy, but now it seemed more true than ever. And he was thankfull, they all were, that they weren't going to lose a brother today.

"Ok, we're all done and packed up." Dr Hawkes spoke up, ripping both men from their thougts. He turned to them with a smile. "Let's get young Evan here back home." And Giorgio smiled, a rare sight if ever there was one.

"Si, let's get him home." He said.

'_Finally…'_


	7. Chapter Five

**Time Crisis: Ultimatum…**

**Summary**: The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any Intel, so they send in their best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgements... and they've taken the whole world hostage to get them... (TC 1, II, 3 & 4 combo – Evan B. centred)

**Warnings:** This is an AU (_Alternate Universe_) Fic, meaning it does not follow the script or story of the Games… Well it might do in some areas but that's purely coincidental because I've only ever played TC4 in the arcade. Also all translations were done online with an online translator. If you can speak the languages I'm trying to translate and if you know it's wrong, could you please let me know because we all know online translators are sh-_bleeeeep_-…Thanks!

**Authors Note: **My apologies for a short chapter and my next one will be just as short too. But hey, at least that means quicker updates right? Ok here's Chapter five for you, hope you all enjoy :)

As always, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (_It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any chapters…_)

* * *

**Chapter Five: **

The time of day couldn't have been more of a blessing or a curse if it tried to be. The late hour meant that there was little to no traffic on the roads making the whole driving task that much easier for Robert, however it also meant that there was no where to hide and no way to lose the tailers until they hit the markets… which would now be completely empty and full of open space. The turn off came far too quickly for Robert's liking as just as he predicted, the Markets were barren of life there was no where to hide and they were running out of time; the fuel tank was almost empty.

If Robert had to guestimate how long it would take to find another vehicle, make the swap and disappear into the night, he figured it could take around five or ten minutes and that was accounting for the leg shot Keith had taken on their ride down the highway. But the problem was; if they stopped now the tailers would be on them in seconds.

"Miller how is he?" He called back, not trusting Keith to give him an accurate account. He knew far to well how his partner liked to downplay his own injuries when on such an important mission as this. '_Stupid self-sacrificing martyr._' he thought to himself as the tyres squealed loudly, almost overpowering Richard's response as he swerved around a wide corner and knocked a few empty stalls over in the process.

"Not good, he's losing a lot of blood." Richard's voice called back over the cacophony of noises the pressured driver had inadvertently caused. The sound of the chasing motorbikes and the revving of the thundering jeep behind them soon replaced the crashing and smashing of the stalls and their own grinding engine as they raced through the abandoned expanse of tarmac. Robert swore loudly.

"Don't even think about in Baxter! We worked too hard to get this proof and I am not letting you throw eight months of planning and sacrifice just because I got a '_boo-boo_.' Forget it!" Keith's voice called up, sounding strained and tired. Robert swerved again, avoiding a very painful collision with a large grundon that had been hiding round the corner he'd just taken.

"I'm low on ammo, I know you are too Martin. We can't keep this up." Richard stated, his experience in the field giving him more sway over the situation than Robert. He heard Keith grumble something lowly before he had to pull a hard sharp turn round another grundon to avoid getting crushed like a tin can.

"Video it. Get everything. We'll dump the crate in their path and get the hell outta here." Robert called back, "Shut it Martin! It's not worth it! The evidence is there, we'll find it again!" He added before his partner could retort.

"Damn it Baxter!" Keith gritted loudly, conceding to the plan albeit grudgingly.

"Shut it bitch, just report it in. let HQ know our plans." Robert commanded as he sped down a ramp to the lower market levels, the tailers still following closely. The sound of the motorbikes suspensions squeaking and the clunking of the jeeps axis' scraping on the sharp angle of the ramp told him they were still too close for comfort. The small 'pings' that showered the truck every now and then reminded all three that time was short but life was shorter.

"I got the video." Richard reported and took up position behind the crate. "Ready on your count, Baxter." He added whilst throwing some cover fire in order to maintain their distance from enemy fire. Give the enemy an inch and they'll take over the world… and still scream for more.

"HQ just Ok'd the plan bro." Keith reported, letting his head fall back as another jostling turn sent waves of pain shooting down his leg. Robert had to time this right; if they just dumped it now in the lower markets the enemy would just move around the crate and still chase them. He needed a narrow escape.

"Ok on my count Miller." He called back as he spotted the perfect escape route; the ramp leading up to the higher levels. He steadied the steering that was becoming harder to control the faster they went. They front tyres hit the slope with a crunch as the suspension almost gave out. And then they were on the ramp.

"Dump it now Miller!" He yelled back and put his foot down harder, giving Richard all the momentum he needed to heave the crate off the truck bed and watch it land right in the path of the tailers. And with a quick thought, Richard quickly brought the still recording camera up to the scene and watched through the lens as one motorcyclist failed to stop in time and crashed into the crashed crate, sending its contents of disassembled AK47 machine guns all across the floor.

But as the jeep pulled up, something metallic glinted on the screen and caught his eye. It was too late to stop it, the bullet hit his shoulder, the one with the camera and he fell back against the cab. His hand was no longer able to keep hold of the camera, and even as he heard Keith lay down some cover fire for him he could only watch in slow motion as the camera fell from his dead hand and crashed harshly with the truck bed. The sound of glass shattering and a disk cracking echoed loudly into the night.

All three agents swore loudly.

* * *

The night was still, quiet… lonely. The moon only peeking out from behind the clouds every so often as though it were afraid of what she could do to it. She sighed heavily. Even the moon feared her family name but Sharon Janica Sinclair was not surprised by this revelation, only sadistically amused. She was in high spirits tonight; she'd found a clue about the whereabouts of her older half brother who was kidnapped from them when he was only five years old. Daniel Kieran Sinclair. Father was going to be pleased. She smiled to herself again, a masochistic glee forming in her gut as she anticipated the rewards she'd receive for her good work.

"I trust you have good news for me daughter." A quiet but strong voice spoke from behind her. The sound of the paper covered door sliding open told her that the man she was waiting for had just stepped out on to the veranda where she was sat. She stayed in her seated position, legs hanging limp over the step that dipped down to the perfectly designed zen garden in front of her. Her eyes never left the soft glow that was the moon behind the clouds. Her father sat down beside her. "I'm in need of some good news tonight after what happened at the docks." He added bitterly.

"I just heard about it. Who was it do you know?" Sharon asked curiously, letting her deep sapphire eyes roam over to her father's strong figure beside her. He wasn't the type to anger quickly and he was smart enough to have more than enough stock to please his clients but the fact that someone had almost gotten away with evidence and proof of their illegal businesses was a threatening problem that needed to be swiftly removed if their grander plan was going to go as scheduled.

"Dangerous men from what I can discern. There was clear footage of them, faces, whole body shots, the lot; but my men have found nothing on them. I've had my best hackers on them all night and there's still nothing. These men effectively don't exist." He replied, "Which can only mean one thing." He added darkly. Sharon frowned too.

"The VSSE? So soon?" He asked rhetorically. Her mind conjuring reasons why the accursed group of expert _heroes_ were already on the move. They shouldn't have had any notion that the Sinclair family existed yet, let alone have acted to quickly and almost succeeding in their mission. And that meant only one thing; they had a traitor in their midst.

"We'll have to push the rescue mission forward, get to our brothers sooner." Her father decided and Sharon knew she would be the one heading that task. She grinned to herself. "What news do you have of my long lost son?" he asked at length, letting the previous conversation rest for now. He knew she knew what he expected of her and that was enough. Sharon gave him the biggest smile she could muster.

"I have very good news Father. I'm so close to finding him." She replied in a playful manner, sounding much like the cat that ate the canary. Her father leaned back on his hands and looked up at the cloudy sky, moon still hiding. A small smile played on his lips.

"Tell me everything."

* * *

Giorgio was in heaven. His aching back was now resting against an impossibly soft leather chair that was vibrating behind his shoulders and just above his lower back, a cold whiskey rested on a table to his right and the first decent, un-soggy cigarette he'd had since before the damnable mission was glowing softly between his left index and middle fingers. He could feel Alan's eyes on him with a heavily disappointed scowl on it but honestly, he didn't care.

Wesley was opposite him in a similar manner except he had a gin and tonic and a bowl full of jelly beans beside him. He also had a nice heated gel pad resting on his shoulder to try and ease the pain away a little.

Alan just sighed at the two and got up to check on his friend who was secured in the next compartment of the private plane but not before sending another annoyed scowl at the smoker. Honestly, Evan would be pissed if he found out the old codger had started up again.

Evan was still out cold, the sedatives working strongly in his system and keeping him in a drug induced coma until they arrived at HQ. Alan moved around the bed and found the seat that Giorgio had not long left. He let his hazel eyes roam his friend's sleeping figure with a critical eye. It certainly looked like the kid had taken a beating with his arms all bandaged up like they were and the red and blue bruising and burn marks adorning his pale face. But the Doctor was hopeful and that was always a good sign.

He checked his watch briefly, calculating the minutes they had left on the plane; an hour and a half. He leaned back in the comfy chair and stuck his feet up on the bed his friend was occupying – being careful of the various monitors and instruments of course – before folding one of his arms behind his head, his other reaching for the remote controls for the television that was placed in the corner. He flicked it on and glanced at the screen before letting his mouth fall open in shock at the breaking news headlines.

"_Good morning this is the news at eight. We have just heard confirmation from the local authorities that a group of terrorist mercenaries have escaped imprisonment late last night just on the outskirts of Arizona. Police have warned all local residents and workers to stay alert and if anything looks suspicious to report it immediately to the police._

"_The Terrorists are reported to be the head figures of several national terrorist groups that were recently apprehended by the authorities. The men are known as; Gregory Barrows, Giorgio Zott and Derrick Lynch. It is unconfirmed as to what these three men were charged with but we have been assured they are very dangerous men._

"_The police are advising the public to flee on sight and to not try any acts of patriotism. The men are considered to be armed and very much capable of killing. Please stay alert and report them immediately if you spot them. The helpline number for this case is…_"

Alan could only think of one word;

"Shit!"

* * *

**A/N**; who wants more? :)


	8. Chapter Six

**Time Crisis: Ultimatum…**

**Summary**: The World is in peril once more but the good guys can't seem to get any Intel, so they send in their best men... but it seems the bad guys have a new agenda; they want the heroes for their own judgements... and they've taken the whole world hostage to get them... (TC 1, II, 3 & 4 combo – Evan B. centred)

**Warnings:** This is an AU (_Alternate Universe_) Fic, meaning it does not follow the script or story of the Games… Well it might do in some areas but that's purely coincidental because I've only ever played TC4 in the arcade. Also all translations were done online with an online translator. If you can speak the languages I'm trying to translate and if you know it's wrong, could you please let me know because we all know online translators are sh-_bleeeeep_-…Thanks!

**Authors Note: **Short again I know, I'm sorry but life has kidnapped me and intends to hold me ransom for a while longer. The only reason I'm updating this is because it was already written, I just hadn't gotten around to publishing it until now. Thanks to thelionheartedgirl for reminding me that I needed to post this. Thanks hun!

Ok so enjoy but remember, it might be a while til I can update again; I'm supposed to be updating my Merlin fic which won the outdated poll on my profile... guess I should update that huh? lol.

As always, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (_It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any chapters…_)

* * *

**Chapter Six: **

The halls of the VSSE HQ infirmary were never usually busy, mainly because his boys knew how to take care of themselves and each other, but today there was a lot more hustle and bustle than normal. The Head, who remained nameless even to his direct subordinates, walked briskly down one such hall before turning into the Accident ward and was immediately greeted with a sharp tongued shout of pain and a cursed hiss from two of his agents; his ace agent Richard Miller who was being stitched up from armpit to collar bone, and his third senior agent Keith Martin who was laid out on a trolley and being held down by an orderly and his long term partner, senior agent Robert Baxter.

"Welcome back boys." The head said cheerily over the ruckus, his authoritative voice easily hushing the din. He only had to wait a few seconds before Richard spoke up, greeting him with a sit-rep.

"We got the crate boss but we were ambushed. We ran but it was too open, there was no where to lose the chasers. Ammo was low, time was short and Martin was shot." He reported succinctly, wincing slightly as the nurse applied an antiseptic alcohol solution to his newly stitched wound.

"I made the call boss." Robert admitted, still keeping a firm hold on his partner's shoulders while the doctor fished out the bullet that had embedded itself stubbornly in the agent's thigh. The Head turned his attention to the VSSE's driving specialist. "I couldn't find any cover and the truck had less than a quarter tank of fuel. We only just made it to the rendezvous point before the truck completely died on me." He took a breath, the next part being the hardest to admit. "We recorded video footage but when Miller was shot, the camera smashed." It was never easy to report a failure to the boss. "I've sent the remains to the tech office but I don't think they'll salvage much." He hung his head down. "I'm sorry boss." He finished just as the doctor managed to pull the bullet from Keith's thigh, earning the room a loud cry of pain from the injured man.

"Don't matter how many times you get shot, you never get used to that pain." Keith hissed through his teeth as his watering eyes locked with Roberts. He was comforting the worry and guilt his partner was obviously harbouring. He could see it in his eyes, he always could.

"Good work boys, and don't think this was a complete failure. You've seen the evidence which is more proof than we had before this mission had begun. We now know the rumours to be true." The Head reassured with a smile. "Get some rest, you deserve it. I've got to go see if Evan's out of surgery yet." He added and turned to leave but Keith called out quickly, stopping his retreat.

"Hey boss, how is he?" He asked, not daring to ask the question they trio feared. Last they'd heard, the rookie was on his death bed and they hadn't been updated since. The boss turned quickly giving them a smile and a nod.

"From what I've been told, he'll be fine. He's healing fast and the surgeon has plugged up the leak. She's just doing a routine check to make sure all is working and healing as it should be. I was told he'll be out and resting in less than an hour and that was almost forty five minutes ago. He'll be up and ready for round two in no time." The tension fled the room with a speed to be jealous of. Their brother in arms was safe, alive. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have other reports to collect." The Head said jovially.

"Sure, whatever boss… send our regards!"

* * *

To Wesley, Alan was his best friend and worst nightmare all wrapped up in one. If it wasn't his diabetes scaring Wesley witless it was the way the man joked and just knew how to have fun that either irked him or helped him relax respectively. But with time, the other members of the VSSE team had become part of that same family mentality to him. His friends here were his family. And so it wasn't hard for Wesley's mind to remind him of the last time he'd almost lost a brother on a mission. It was a mission he'd rather forget. That day when Alan had gone missing right from the motel room he'd been sat with him in only minutes before, had been one of the worst days of his life, but those days only ended up getting uglier.

Alan had been kidnapped and was exposed to an experimental procedure that had almost killed them both. The Zagorias Federation had employed a psychological scientist who had majored in biophysics and put together a theory about the human mind and body. His thoughts on how the body was just a machine while the mind was only a programme that was installed to command the body was a valid theory at its most basic level in words and on paper. But this scientist, a Doctor Russell Blair, took his theory one step further. He had developed and created a device that could store and download commands and behaviour patterns and then install them into the human mind. An illegal case study had given a traumatised and psychologically imbalanced young boy his sanity back and thus his life. But it all went down hill from there.

Wesley remembered with vivid clarity. He and Alan had investigated the boy's claims and the doctor's disappearance and after Alan had found those files of the doctor's work, he'd been taken too. For four days, Wesley was left pondering and fearing the worst but when he, Keith and Robert led the SWAT team into the warehouse they'd tracked the doctor to, his hopes had hit the stars then quickly fled back to a deeper hole in hell. Alan wasn't Alan anymore.

Physically he was the same man; dark hair, bright blazing blue eyes and a diabetes crisis narrowly intercepted… but it was all only skin deep. It was like a whole other person had taken up residence in his partner's body; an angry, confused and violent person who didn't recognise Wesley and had actually attacked him on several accounts.

For two months they'd had Alan in a psychiatric ward either heavily sedated, locked up in a soft padded room or restrained to a bed for his own and everyone else's safety. The Zagorias Federation had long fled the warehouse and taken all the files and notes with them, leaving the VSSE with nothing.

Evan had only been a team member for a few months then, a rookie who no one really listened to because he was inexperienced with these scenarios, but the kid was the one who'd made the break in the case. After quietly researching the basics of Dr Blair's work from the files they'd gathered, he'd come up with a theory that it all bottled down to pure will power; the strength of the mind and soul combining to overpower the foreign influences. He tried his theory out with Alan, talking to him about the theory, encouraging him to fight the programming, to find himself and to everyone's surprise he was marginally successful. But Alan didn't need Evan, he needed Wesley. He'd tried and failed but Evan wasn't friendly with his attempts.

"He's in there Wesley, you're just afraid he'll come out and want to keep going, to keep putting his life on the line." The rookie had said, hitting home with a driving force that Wesley couldn't deny. "That's not your decision to make. He knows the risks but it's his choice, not yours. You think you're saving him from a world of hurt out there but do you know what I'd feel if Giorgio left me like that, knowing he could bring me back?" He'd asked, his hazel eyes staring right through him. "I'd be hurting here." He answered his own rhetorical question and placed his hand over his chest. "I'd feel cheated out of the respect I thought you had for me, for my integrity to make my own mistakes." And that had opened Wesley's eyes again to the dynamics of partnership and the camaraderie that came with it. Alan was his partner and it was Wesley's duty as his friend, to bring the man back to his right mind.

"You're in that dark place again bro." Said the man he was currently thinking about. Wesley looked up at his partner and sighed before looking away again; a guilty action if ever he saw one. Alan took the seat next to him on the plastic bench in the waiting room. "Why are you back there?" He asked, leaning back and trying to sit comfortably. He failed miserably. Wesley sighed again.

"I don't know." He replied, swallowing thickly before continuing. "I guess this was just too close a call for me to ignore." He admitted, looking down at his hands as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Head hung low. "When death steps too close you start to see all the other time's he's visited. You start to question yourself again; is this really worth our lives?" He frowned when he heard Alan snort at him.

"You know Evan'd chew your ass out for that right?" The darker haired agent replied with a grin. "Think about it bro; who else would do the stuff we do… who else _could_ do what we do? Mamma always said; '_If you got the ability to help…_'" He trailed off, knowing Wesley would pick up the next line.

"Yeah, I know; '_you got the responsibility…_' I know that Al, I just don't want to lose the only family I've got left. You, Evan, Gi-man, and Rich… hell even tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee! You guys are all I have left now." The blond agent admitted softly. "I don't want to lose you."

"Then you'd better keep them where you can save them then." A new voice said. Both agents sprang to their feet ready to stand to attention with a curt 'Sir!' forming on their lips but the Head beat them to it. "At ease boys, you've had a few rough days. Take it easy for the moment." Ha advised before sitting down on the recently vacated bench. The two agents sat back down in their seats.

"Sorry sir, force of habit." Alan smiled as he tried to find his (un)comfy position again. Wesley just nodded his agreement.

"I know, took me a while to get used to not taking orders before giving them when I took this job but look at me now… guess an old dog can learn new tricks." The boss chuckled. The tension in the room lessened a fraction. He let the silence hang for a moment before asking the question he'd been procrastinating on.

"How are you two holding up?" The question held more depth than just how they were coping with Evan's condition. It asked about their mission before they'd arrived at Evan's bedside; the trials they'd faced both physically and mentally; and of their health and mental state right now whilst sitting in a waiting room waiting for the chance to see their friend before even thinking about a hot shower and a warm bed for the rest of the week. Wesley just stared at the red light above the operating room, remaining silent while Alan leaned forward and gave the boss a tired grin.

"Same as always boss." He said and Wesley took that moment to add his two cents.

"The Intel was right; the guy was trafficking warheads. Files were showing extensive sales for the past two years but he was deleting files as we caught him. There's no way to track who he sold them to or where they were taken. Over two hundred warheads are unaccounted for." The blond agent reeled off, eyes never straying from the red light.

"The facility has been locked down and will be dealt with by the local authorities as per their procedures but those warheads went to someone and we have no idea who or when they will strike." Alan added solemnly. This was a bad scenario but without a ransom note or a point of launch there was no way to track the current owner or current position of these warheads. The tech offices were on a constant look out for any abnormal readings from the VSSE's private satellites orbiting earth but they won't pick up a thing if they're being hidden well, which – judging by the lack of any abnormal readings – was proving to be the case.

"I forwarded the files that were left to the techs and I've asked for any and all paperwork and suspicious paraphernalia to be sent to our labs for further analysis. It's up to the experts to find the next lead now." Wesley finished for them, still watching the red light. The head followed his line of sight before responding,

"You did good boys. I'm proud." He smiled but any other words were cut off when the red light suddenly blinked to green, meaning that Evan was now out of surgery and ready to rest in a private ward that was reserved for patients with their status. All three stood up, the Head noticeable slower than the two agents, and waited for the surgeon to walk through the door. And as if on cue, the doors swung open and a tall woman with a stern and tired look on her face walked into the waiting room to greet her patient's friends.

"Don't ask questions. He's fine, he'll be asleep for a few hours and he'll be out of my infirmary in a few weeks providing he heals well and isn't a pain in the ass. He's being placed in room 4b so skedaddle before I have you removed from my sight." She said irritably before stalking off to another room to change and clean off. Alan and Wesley cast each other wistful looks at the doctor's attitude. She didn't scare them, she was always like this; it was a tough love thing. She'd been at the VSSE since before they had joined and had seen far too many good men disappear but at the same time she'd been the one who'd brought back even the faintest of heartbeats to a strong steady rhythm. They'd quickly discovered that it was just her way of showing affection. She loved the boys – considered them unknown heroes actually – which was why she worked her damnedest to bring them back from the brink of death every time they came home on death's door.

"Can I join you boys? I need to speak with Giorgio before I go and file my reports." The Head asked, nodding his head in the direction of the room they were just told to scamper off to. The two agents smiled and nodded, Alan more rigorously than Wesley before falling in to step with their boss. "I have to admit it though, that man has changed." The head murmured conversationally. It was Alan who replied.

"Gi-man?" He asked, wondering if the boss was talking about Giorgio or Evan. The Head nodded.

"Yes, for all his previous partners you'd never catch him in the operating room and risking the wrath of Dr Stevens. She's got one hell of a temper on her but for Giorgio to risk being on the receiving end of that just to be physical support for his partner… Evan must really be something special to him." He explained as they walked down the corridors to the private ward wing.

"You've no idea chief." Alan replied sharing a knowing smirk with Wesley before letting the conversation fall. The Head just smiled and shook his head.

"No, I guess I don't."

* * *

**A/N: **...and that i sChapter 6! Lemme know what you think :P x


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